Who Knew
by sakuyavalentine
Summary: One-shot. Leon x Ada. Leon x Angela.


**Who Knew**

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"And that last kiss  
I'll cherish  
until we meet again…"

- Pink – _Who Knew_

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She was born in Shanghai to a fish salesman and his wife, who were too poor to afford contraceptives. She was their third child and the second girl. And so, like her sister before her – who's name she'd never cared to learn – she was given, before she could so much as utter the word, "Mama", to the orphanage. With her round face and silken hair, true innocent beauty, it wasn't long before an American family, who could have no children of their own, brought her across the Pacific to grow beneath love and praise and attend the highest quality schools.

Some might say that is why she joined him, Albert Wesker, on his mad quest for regenesis. A world of suffering, of tightened politics and overpopulation forced her from her native home and family and that she thus felt a sense of vengeance and the desire to create a world anew in which no future child had to experience such tragedy.

Perhaps this was the case, though Ada herself knew not the motives behind her allegiance to Wesker, nor her diligence in the assignments he bestowed upon her: all the lying and danger. And maybe, just maybe, if she were going to be honest with herself, she might admit that she too, like he, was a little bit unstable. Maybe she too was wicked by nature, selfish and tyrannical, as so many are, but few seldom act upon.

Whatever the case, vengeance or avarice, she'd joined him on his crusade and now, fifteen years later, Wesker was gone, and the secret empire he'd built had at last, faded away as well, its members scattered, captured or dead. Others had tried to take his place, but Wesker himself made them; his intellect and talent for perfection, manipulation and diabolises. Their organization, like a shot elephant, stood for five years after he burned with Uroboros in that African volcano, before finally falling dead. She'd lived for him, for his cause, and now that it was over, she felt lost and so very alone. The release of attachment left her feeling renewed. Perhaps now she could live a life she never imagined desiring to live: a normal one. And that thought led her to _his _door.

She'd loved him, somehow, though love seemed an incomprehensible idea at the time. They were polar opposites: she seeking to destroy the world, he to protect it. At first, their game was fun with all its flirtatious banter and witty remarks, tender embraces, passionate kisses and heart-wrenching betrayal. But then...something changed her. Time, likely. Wesker's orders on that chilled night, with the howling of ravenous wolves drifting through the stone-built castle and dark Spanish forests, left her guilty and greatly depressed. It was the first time she'd deliberately defied him, though subtly, as was her nature. It was the first time she'd ever rescued her self-appointed enemy.

Starting up the winding sidewalk, she smiled to herself. He always was on the gentle side. Chivalrous. She supposed the horrors he'd faced had made him docile and he, like her, sought a life without the nightmarish visions of the undead, of the mutated and monstrous. When she reached the door, she raised her hand, hesitating only once, and pressed the glowing button, releasing a bell she heard from outside. After a moment or two, she heard rustling movement and peered through the window, attempting to mentally surpass the thick curtains to watch him approach the door with an air of worry, as though awaiting a foe to burst out from behind.

Instead, a small child stood before her, staring up with innocent curiosity in his blue eyes and a tilt of his head. He couldn't have been more than a few years old. "Hello," he said. "Who are you?"

Before she could answer, a woman scooped him up under one arm and held him gently against her bulging belly. Baby Number Two was obviously on its way. She smiled at Ada and glared momentarily at the boy. "Honey, what have I told you about opening the door for strangers?" Then, to Ada, "I'm sorry. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I don't think so," Ada replied, and felt the strange sensation of her stomach falling deeper and deeper. "I was looking for Leon Kennedy, but I guess I have the wrong house. I'm sorry to have troubled you."

The woman shook her head and gathered her light brown hair over one shoulder. "No, you're correct. He's at work right now, but if you want to leave me your name, I'll be sure to tell him you came by."

"Ada," she said and tried to hide her hurt. She wondered if she succeeded; she was good at it in the past. "Ada Wong. I'm an...old friend. If you can, please tell him I'll be at the northern cemetery at around midnight."

The woman seemed to hesitate, her throat moving with a long, slow swallow, but then her smile returned, as brightly beaming as ever, and she assured her she'd pass on the message. Then the door closed, almost finally, and Ada released a slow breath before turning around and going back the way she came.

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A fog rolled in that night; fitting. Gloom seemed their setting of choice, regardless of where in the world they were. Perhaps misery was all that Fate had in store for them.

Ada looked at her gold wrist watch, a present from Wesker long ago. She mused in retrospect, that perhaps, even through his madness, he'd retained some humanity. Solitude was desolate, regardless of how proud of soul or wicked of heart one was. The hands read twelve forty-two. She knew he wouldn't show. He had a family now.

Her brows perked up at the notion. A family? That man? The president's lapdog, who travelled miles in search of damsels in distress? Who fought against crazed villagers and delirious cults and the walking dead with a pistol as his only true friend?

Ah, but then again, he was a romantic at heart – his childhood goal to become a police officer in Raccoon City; protector of the people – so she supposed it shouldn't have surprised her that a wife and child lay at the end of his road. However, a small part of her, insignificant to the untrained eye, hoped that wife might someday be her. Though it came as little surprise, there was a certain degree of despair in realizing one's dream not only had not come true, but would never, regardless of personal alteration or circumstance.

Lost was she in her thoughts, she didn't hear the crunching of dry tree leaves beneath thick-soled shoes, or feel the tingling sense of another body in the darkness with her. Only his voice, low and monotonous as it was, broke her from her memories.

"Ada."

"Leon..." She breathed his name like a gasp of fresh air, her chest filling with all the feelings she'd so often tried to deny. He was no different than the day she left him on that dismal island with a set of Jet Ski keys and the grotesque corpse of Osmond Saddler. His hair, always cut in a handsomely boyish style, draped over one pale blue eye and expressionless face, his slim but toned body clothed in faded jeans and a tight, black t-shirt. He'd purchased a new coat, it seemed; brown leather this time. She thought of the Ganado who'd stolen the article's predecessor and it was enough to make her smirk.

"It's been a long time," he said and put his hands into his pockets. Romantic he was, though he lacked the flowery speech common to poets and authors of his type. "What are you doing here?"

She drew a deep breath, unsure entirely herself. "Wesker's dead; this time for good. Your colleague Chris Redfield saw to that. Ever since, our organization has been in shambles. The virus samples are gone, consumed to the last cell in Africa, and our records were seized by the B.S.A.A."

She stopped herself. It was neither the time, nor the place, to be so professional. So she started over. "I didn't know where else to go."

Leon shifted his weight, as unsure as she as to what to do, what to say. He'd often wondered what it'd be like if he saw her again. He played out countless scenarios in his mind, each time telling her something different, yet somehow the same. How much he loved her and forgave her for all the betrayal. That he didn't blame her for siding with Wesker. It didn't matter, so long as they could be together, as they always should have been. He imagined holding her tightly, breathing in the smell of her hair and skin, making up for the time they should have, but never, had.

That moment had arrived; they were together again, and yet he did none of the things he'd thought he would. Life had changed, rendering those possibilities void. He had a family now – a wife and child – and though it wasn't what he imagined it would be, for he too hoped, prayed, that one day it might be to her he pledged his sole devotion to, he knew with certainty he would die someday with no regrets. Everything played out the way it did because it was meant to; he and Ada cared for one another, but they had no future together. They never did; age had taught him that.

"Who was that woman?" Ada asked for curiosity's sake.

"Angela Miller," Leon answered slowly. "Chance encounter at the Harvardville Airport. The T-Virus was unleashed and she was part of the S.R.T. unit. Kind of went from there."

Truth be told it'd surprised him. He'd worked alongside many women, some longer than others. After Ada, he never imagined feeling strongly about anyone and yet...Perhaps it was Angela's gallantry that drew him to her. She wasn't always very strong, yet the safety of others pushed her forward, forced her to go on and do what was necessary, even at the cost of her own life. He saw some of himself in her, he supposed.

Ada tucked her hair behind her ear, though short, and flashed an awkward smile. "Well, I'm...happy for you. Fate has been rather cruel to you; you deserve some happiness."

She turned to leave and she wondered why she'd called him here at all. To see him, her inner voice replied, just once more. To hear from his lips that he'd found a way to move on from her, that they could never have a future. To know that, after it all, he was going to be okay.

Strange, she never thought of herself as selfless before. Yet, here she was, more concerned with his happiness, his contentment, than her own.

He reached for her hand, holding it firmly, yet gently. She turned her face, startled by his actions, and further still as he leaned in to kiss her deeply. It was a queer kind of kiss, one they'd never shared before. It was a kiss of desperation, of sadness, but ultimately of finality.

"I did love you," he whispered. _And I still do, _continued his eyes.

"I know. And I loved you." She dragged her fingertips along his cheek, feeling the roughness of a tomorrow's stubble. For the first time in as long as she could remember, her eyes grew warm with tears. "Goodbye...Leon."

She turned away without looking back and disappeared forever into the fog.

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**Disclaimer: **All _Resident Evil _characters are property of Capcom.


End file.
